


Cameron's Day Off

by belovedbright



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbright/pseuds/belovedbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferris Bueller's Day Off was a fantasy.  Even Ferris couldn't have quite pulled off all of those things.  This is the day as it really happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cameron's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> For all I know, someone's written this before. This idea occurred to me this afternoon. Hours later, it still wouldn't let go. 
> 
> TW: Major Character Death, Suicide

That was the day we should have had. If anyone could have pulled off a day that crazy, that full of art and pancreas, baseball and insane risks? It was Ferris. Ferris fucking Bueller was my best friend, and some days I hated him for that. Standing next to Ferris was like standing next to the sun. You couldn't help feeling insignificant in comparison. You were literally drowned out by his light. Everyone loved him, sure. It was a lot harder to stand next to him.   
I fantasize about the day we should have had all the time. Even the pool. Especially the pool. Sometimes it's me fucking with him. Sometimes I actually drown. But Ferris dives in after me every time. Because there's no doubt in my mind that he would have.   
“You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do.” That was real. Hell, that was classic Ferris. He'd push and push you into doing the things he wanted to do. “It'll be fun” was probably Ferris' favorite phrase. For Ferris it was always fun. Ferris was made of goddamn teflon. Nothing stuck to him. Nothing ever went wrong. No one ever stayed angry for long. He'd smile and turn on the charm. All would be forgiven. Even if Ferris left you holding the bag for his bullshit.   
So Ferris badgered me into picking him up. Then into calling Ed Rooney, pretending to be Sloane's father. Then... the car.   
That bit about me destroying the car? That's in every fantasy too. I hate that car more than I've hated anything in my entire life. Except my father and myself. That red 1963 Modena Spyder ruined my life in every way possible.   
It was on the way to pick up Sloane that everything went wrong. I don't know what possessed me. I don't know what was wrong with me. All I know is that Ferris wasn't going to bring the car back. We were arguing about it while he drove. All he could go on about was all the fun we were going to have that day. While I was sitting in a cold sweat, imagining what my father would do when he found out I'd taken the car. I swear it felt like I couldn't breath as I thought about it. All I know is that Ferris had said the words “don't worry” or “loosen up” too many goddamn times. He actually said that line about a lump of coal up my ass turning into a diamond.   
I remember yelling. I remember hitting? Pushing? Grabbing him? Something. He was driving too fast anyway. He wasn't _listening_ to me. I was tired of being the guy he dragged along on every goddamn adventure, when _he wouldn't even listen to me._  
The car swerved, clipping another car. We spun out and hit a telephone poll head-on. I know these things, but I don't really remember them. I remember my chest hurting. I remember glass everywhere. I remember everything red. Red car. Red flashing lights. Red shattered glass. Blood.   
I remember waking up in the hospital. My mother was actually crying. My father was thin-lipped and grim. I think even my mother would have berated him if he'd started in about the damn car. He couldn't bring himself to say more than a few words to me anyway.   
The worst was Ferris' mom. Hugging me while crying. Telling me she knew it wasn't my fault. That she knew Ferris could be persuasive, and that she was just glad I would be okay.   
I am not okay. It was my fault. Ferris Bueller's died inside of that goddamn car, and it was my fault. Even Ferris couldn't talk himself out of death. I can picture him trying.   
Every day I think about the day we should have had. I hated him. I loved him. I fucking miss him. My best friend is dead. My father is rebuilding the goddamn car. When it's done, I'm going to have the day we should have had. I'll bluff my way into a nice restaurant. We'll go to a game. We'll spend hours in the Art Institute of Chicago. When we're done, I'll take the damn car straight off a bridge.   
I'll see you soon Ferris.


End file.
